


New Student

by Clockwork



Series: Senior Hell [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New student Chris Argent gets an eye opening first kiss when he finds out his dad hasn't been entirely forthright with him and the golden boy of Beacon Hills basketball is a werewolf</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Student

Senior year. Chris wasn't even sure some days how he made it this far. Not after six schools in four years. Not with all his absences, and the hunts that took him out of town, and the nights he had to watch over Kate when they were both smaller so that Gerard could do the family's work.

Now though he was within actual sight of graduation, with not only the grades to do it but a school willing to overlook his absences to let the boy go ahead and graduate with the rest of his class, on time, rather than waiting another year. Chris liked to think it was his grades that made him stand out, or even his skill on the boards, but he knew deep down that neither of those had anything to do with him being considered to graduate on time - just so long as they stayed there in Beacon Hills another six months instead of moving on. It was never Chris' skills that made those things happen but he knew just what it was.  
His father had threatened the principal. It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last. It was a method that Chris found effect, even if he kept telling himself he was above it. That didn't make starting over again any easier.

He was used to it though, and it wasn't that hard. Make a few friends, play hard on the court, ignore the ones that seemed to hate him on sight for no other reason than he existed. That was always the hardest part.

Sitting there with a handful of students in the cafeteria, two of them from the team and a couple of cheerleaders that had given up on football jocks, Chris nudged the guy next to him.

"Hey, what do you know about Hale?"

It was a loaded question. Even Chris, after only a few months in the town, knew who Peter Hale was.

Eldest son of the Hale family. Basketball golden child. Popular. Charming. He was the school's star.

Except that wasn't what Chris got off him. Not all the time. Not when he was, like he was now, sitting across the room at a table by himself. Bright eyes half hooded as he stared at Chris from across the crowded cafeteria.

The first time he'd assumed he was staring past him, maybe even through him. A coincidence of light and angles. The first time he'd assumed coincidence. The second time brought confusion. Now, with it happening daily whether over lunch, in the classroom or from the bench, Chris was beginning to wonder just what was going on.

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Tried talking to him but he kind of blew me off."

What he'd done was snort, rolling his eyes and walking away but that was the same as blowing him off, right?

"Yeah well, that's a fag for you," Matthew said, pushing to his feet.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Uhmm, that he's gay?" The duh was implied.

"What? Seriously?"

Matthew shrugged, grabbing his girlfriend by the arm and giving her a tug. It didn't take a genius to know why they disappeared to the parking lot every day, that was for damn sure. Not to mention being a lot more than Chris wanted to know.

"Whatever. If you want to know, ask him. Or, you know..."

The teen smirked, using hand and tongue to make a lewd gesture. Chris really wanted to point out it didn't exactly work that way but he figured the jerk never paid attention to just what his girlfriend was doing to him as long as he got off.

Picking up his tray, Chris glanced over at the table again. Peter was gone.

He wasn't at practice either. Coach demanded to know where he was, but no one had a clue though a lot more jokes like the one Matthew had made were bantered about. It became such a joke that it took over practice and before Coach could make a call for the shower.

Grabbing his bag, he headed out for his truck - a piece of shit that actually bore werewolf claw marks that had started to rust out and the entire thing painted gun metal grey. It looked like shit but it ran and that was all that mattered.

Well, that and it now had a lounging hood ornament in the form of Peter Hale, still in jeans and a tee, leaning against the hood of the truck.

"Can I help you," Chris asked, trying to ignore the way his heart raced just watching that sleek body lounging against his truck.

"You wanted to know about me. Ever think to just ask me," he challenged, pushing away from the truck.

"I thought about it. Then you ignored me and kept glaring at me," he said, opening the door on the driver's side. He stepped up, hooking his arm over the door and looking down at him, using that height for a kind of mental leverage. "What's with that? I kick your dog and don't remember?"

For a moment rage twisted Peter's features before he snorted, rolling his eyes. Without a word, he stepped around and climbed up into the passenger's seat.

"I glare at you because you smell like wolfsbane," he noted, settling into the truck. "Let's take this somewhere else," he murmured, staring up at Chris with baleful eyes.

Slowly Chris slid down into the truck, dropping onto the seat, staring at Peter the entire way. He couldn't bring himself to close the door, to lock himself in a small space with a possible werewolf.

Peter though was undeterred, reaching over to take the keys, sliding them into the ignition. "Come on. You don't want to have this talk here," he said, turning the key.  
The loud roar of the engine was enough to make him drag his gaze away from Peter and onto the road, already driving by rote before he could think about it.

"Where are we going," he asked, stealing sidelong glances at Peter. Peter with his dusky lashes and quirky smile. The same smile he was wearing that moment, arrogance and amusement to make the corner of his eyes crinkle even at his youthful age.

"I'll give you directions. I know a place."

 

***

 

A place turned out to be out in the middle of nowhere, a group of rocks within trees all around that muffled the sound of the city way beyond them.

Peter hadn’t said a word as he led the way out there, not even bothering to look at Chris.

Chris whose heart was pounding, wondering if this was how his father would find him, dead and mauled in the middle of nowhere.

If anyone ever found him at all.

Yet when they came to the outcropping, all he had done was drape himself over one of the rocks, staring up at the crystalline blue sky.

Both boys silent though the woods weren’t. Something crashed through nearby. Bugs buzzed annoyingly. Somewhere in the distance Chris could hear a car horn, reassurance that civilization wasn’t too far away.

Chris stood there, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“So.”

“So,” Peter repeated, head lifting up to look at the taller boy standing over him. “You going to kill me?”

It was a blunt question. Coldly so despite his bright smile.

“Uhmm. Don’t know.” Chris winced, realizing how that sounded. “I mean, not right now. I don’t … I mean, that is why m… Why I’m here.”

“Yeah, I know. Argent. You’re kind of too infamous to be trying to take on family wolves,” Peter pointed out, suddenly bounding to his feet.

On the court he was graceful and lithe but it was nothing like watching him move when he had nothing to hide.

“Let me guess. Your old man didn’t tell you, did he?”

Sliding his hands into his pockets, Chris tried to act nonchalant. He had no idea what to do. He’d never dealt with this. He went out. He hunted. Sometimes he killed. He didn’t have to carry on conversations with them.

“Tell me what? That there were werewolves here? Yeah. I knew.”

“Did you know they were your age?”

Therein lay the rub. He hadn’t known that. He hadn’t expected them to be attractive and talented and as casual about their nature as most were about their intelligence or talents. It was dizzying, uncertain what this meant or, worse, what his father expected him to do.

His mind raced over the code, thinking about what it meant, the things he’d been told. Peter was smiling, friendly, could have killed him and yet he was just standing there, watching Chris as if trying to read his thoughts. Or perhaps just listening to the pounding of his heart.

“No. I didn’t know that,” he admitted, looking away, chin raised a bit as he stared at the tree line for a minute before dropping his gaze back to the other boy. “So why are you telling me?”

Peter smiled. It was a slow, wicked smile that seemed to burn into Chris’ gut.

“Why? I thought it was nicer to tell you before I kissed you,” he said, closing the gap between them.

Chris’ mind raced in those few seconds between those words and the actual kiss. He should run. He should hit Peter as hard as he could. He could always go and find his dad, get his crossbow and finish this tonight.

There were a million things he could have done. None of them were pushing up and into the kiss the moment Peter’s lips touched his.

Yet that was what he did.

Peter’s mouth was warm, his touch nearly electric as his hands slid along Chris’ sides, tucking up and under his jacket to curve in against his sides.

For a moment he was just there, pushing into the kiss and yet not really returning it. Not quite. He was kissing a guy. He was kissing a werewolf. God, he wasn’t sure which of them made him panic more.

Peter could hear his heart racing. He knew that. He could hear the thrumming race of his heart. What else could he sense, truly know because of senses that Chris would never share? The hardening of his cock from that single kiss? The way his lungs ached, wanting to whimper and fighting the sound of it.

Before he could even sort it out, Peter was chuckling. His breath was warm against Chris’ cheek.

“You could try kissing me back,” he murmured softly, sounding more amused than off put. “Or, you know, panic and run as fast as you can. The fastest way to your house is that way,” he said, jerking his head to the east.

“Fuck you, Hale.”

“Maybe one day,” he agreed with a grin.

Chris growled, hating the heat that rose up in his cheeks. For a moment he could see it in his mind’s eye. In the back of the truck, stars overhead during the dark of the moon.

“Shut up.”

Peter’s mouth opened, likely to make a smart ass comment. There wasn’t time for it.

He grabbed the other boy, one hand around the back of his hand, fingers fisting into the longer locks as he jerked him in.

“That’s be…”

Still trying to get in the last word. Chris was having none of that.

The kiss was hard, all tongue and teeth as the hunter jerked Peter flush to him. Free hand molding to the small of his back, clutching hard at the thick fabric of his jacket.

Neither willing to back down, stumbling a step. Another. Chris’ foot hit a rock and he went down. Peter’s hands clutched at his arms, trying to hold him up. His knee slammed into the rocks, cutting through denim and skin easily.

“Fuck,” he hissed, clutching at his leg. Blood seeped against his fingers. “Damn. That fucking…”

He looked up, eyes bright but not enough he was crying. Just a quick, painful shock.

One that was replaced by a much bigger shock. Peter was nowhere to be seen.

“Hale?!”

His voice echoed around him but there was no answer, nothing. Silence around him, eerie and sharp, but no answer. No Peter.

Shifting to try and get to his feet, Chris put his hand down on the rock. Leaves and dirt stuck to his palm, congealing in the already drying blood that smeared his palm.

Blood. His blood. Blood he’d spilt before a teenage werewolf.

“Dammit, Peter,” he muttered, wondering if he could hear him.

It wasn’t the other boy he was mad at though. It was himself. His dad. The goddamn universe that let him meet a sweet guy with a killer smile who was just a killer.

Limping back to his truck, he wondered where this would go, what he’d just done. He thought about it the whole way home. Should he tell his dad? He knew what would happen if he did. Peter would die. Especially after having kissed Chris. He’d see it as an attack, as a reason to kill the wolf.

Before he even pulled into the drive, he knew the answer. He couldn’t tell Gerard. Not now. Not ever. He couldn’t be the reason Peter Hale was killed. All because of a kiss.

Now could he know that the man haunting his thoughts had crept back, spreading his hand over the bloody handprint before sinking back down on the rocks. Amber eyes glanced towards the East, thinking about that kiss. It had been a joke, a means of fucking with a supposedly big bad hunter that was his age.

Now he just wanted to do it again before Chris and his dad ended his life.


End file.
